


Red Star, Red Heart

by Blackwolfrider



Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pernese Dragons, Dragons, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-09-20 16:25:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 17,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9500000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackwolfrider/pseuds/Blackwolfrider
Summary: A Voltron: Legendary Defender cross-over with Dragonriders of Pern, where our favorite Blue Lion pilot is now a blue dragon rider of Benden Weyr. Lance sees the enigmatic but temperamental brown rider Keith, a transfer from Fort Weyr, as a rival. How long is Keith going to stay in Benden Weyr, without getting into fights? With the Red Star rising and the threat of Threadfall imminent, things are going to get interesting very quickly. Are sparks going to fly between Lance and Keith?  Or will Keith push people away again?





	1. Lance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we see the appearance of Lance, blue rider extraordinaire and pain in the posterior.

Most weyrlings hate the cold of Benden Weyr's lake. Not M'Clain - _Lance_ to his close friends, pain in the posterior to the rest of the weyr. He loves the lake, all the several depths of ice-cold water, making a show of jumping cannonball and generally making a show of _everything_. The Weyrlingmaster, C'ran, rolls his eyes and hopes to retire even faster, perhaps to the warmth of Southern Weyr. 

"Look at me, Ceruleath!" M'Clain yells at his blue dragon who lounges beside the lake. Ceruleath, the _fastest_ blue dragon, mind you. Even faster than S'hiro's brave bronze Silvarath, mind. Lance is the best, so is his dragon. Of course, he is not bragging. He did beat the original record for the fastest lap around the weyr for the last Games, didn't he?

The weyrling plunges into the water, yelling at the slap of cold, and laughing as he quickly acclimatizes. He begins to swim. It is a nice spring day. Benden Weyr is quiet. The Red Star is not yet due to drop its nefarious Threads. It is time to enjoy himself. 

He flops onto his back, staring at the sky and the rim of the weyr, where the watcher dragon and his rider stand guard. A brown dragon, young, possibly as young as Ceruleath. Same clutch and Hatching? But Lance prides himself on knowing all the current weyrlings, even the ones from the same clutch by Allura's queen. A new transfer from Fort Weyr? His keen eye sight catches sight of the slight figure beside the dragon. Even from this distance, he can tell that the boy is standing ram-rod straight. 

Oh, it is K'gane. His rival. Brown riders are hideously fast, their dragons lauded for their stamina and courage. Especially this one. _Keith_ , he calls himself apparently. _What a stupid name. Probably from some backwater hold nobody has heard of. Boondocks Hold._

_Redeth is nice_ , Ceruleath said. _He let me share his kill once. I was hungry._

"Nobody asked for your opinion," Lance sticks his tongue out. His heart quickly softens."I am sorry, Ceri. K'gane just pisses me off. Besides, you sound like Hunk now. Eating all the time."

_There is nothing wrong with eating_ , the blue dragon snorts and rolls onto his back. _You finished the entire plate of wherry steak last night, didn't you?_

Lance blows bubbles and grins to himself. Oh boy, headwoman Shay was mad with him. Like really _angry_. But at least, it is not the old hag in the Lower Caverns who bosses everybody around.

He swims back to the shore with deft strokes. He wants to get a rise from the taciturn K'gane.


	2. Keith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, who's K'gane? Nice young man or hot-head?

Redeth stretches his wings, letting out a loud yawn. It is close to the end of their watch. Pidge and her little green Viridath are going to take their place on the Star Stones soon. Keith rubs his neck, wincing at the ache. Try standing straight for three hours in freezing weather without blinking an eye. The Red Star is due to appear. Seeing its tell-tale gleam in the sky will mean one thing: Thread. 

His brown scratches his eye-ridge with one of his back talons. Keith looks at his dragon with a surge of pride. In the light of the setting sun, the reddish hints along the sides of his head and his flanks are more obvious. In a distance, he can even be mistaken as a small bronze dragon. Redeth a bronze dragon? That would be a miracle. In a blue moon. When the Red Star stops producing Thread to torment Pern. He reaches to stroke the brown dragon who responds with an appreciative rumble and leans into his rider's palm. Redeth smells of the best spices and oils. He is the best dragon and companion.

Keith's eyes catch sight of Pidge's dragon flying up from the lake, her wings beating powerfully. 

"Time to go," Keith pats Redeth. 

_Good. I want to soak in a hot bath_ , the brown dragon says. _I am cold all over_.

Keith laughs. "There aren't any hot baths for dragons. I, for once, will sit in a hot bath."

Redeth shakes his head mournfully. _It will be a cold night. The weather shifts. Water in the air._

The brown dragon has an uncanny ability to sense subtle shifts in the weather. Keith knows weather-predicting is something laughed at by some of the experienced riders, but Redeth has always been right. Right down to minute details like colors of the sky and level of dust in the air. 

"Guess we all should stay indoors then," Keith nods. Just then, Viridath perches daintily beside Redeth, sweeping up swirls of dust as she lands, dropping first on her back legs. She eases forward, her front talons digging into the hard earth. Pidge waves enthusiastically, her thick scarf wrapped around her neck. She is wise enough to wear gloves and a thick long-sleeved jacket.

"It will be cold tonight," he tells the green rider. "Stay close to Viridath. Her body heat will bolster yours."

"Dragon senses tingling?" Pidge smiles. She has a boyish figure. When he first joined Benden, he thought Pidge was a boy. She thinks she is a boy and he is fine with that as well. 

"Yes," Keith pulls himself up Redeth's neck. 

"Smart dragon," Pidge says. Redeth rumbles. "There is hot stew in the Lower Caverns. Shay has made a fresh batch of klah. Will all be gone if you don't hurry."

Keith salutes. Redeth needs no encouragement from his rider. The brown dragon kicks off from the edge of the extinct volcano that is Benden Weyr. Keith thrills at the scream of air, the rush of exhilaration in his body, as Redeth plunges downward, before he catches a thermal with his spread wings and glides instead. 

When Redeth finally lands, Keith is already off his neck and striding purposefully towards the warm glow of the Lower Caverns. The brown dragon ambles towards one of the smaller ground-level weyrs, glad for shelter it provides. It will be a cold night. 

The dining tables are already filled with riders, the conversations a heartwarming drone in his ears. Keith pays them no heed. He is only focused on two things: hot klah and stew. 

"Watch where you are going, you dim egg!" 

There is a loud crash of ceramic, a splatter of hotter stew across his boots. Blue eyes glare at him, positively glares like the fire-throwers the queen riders use to fight Thread with. 

" _Oh flaming egg shards!_ I lost my entire dinner, no thanks to you!" 

Then Lance - M'Clain - is right in front of his face, hands grabbing the lapel of his jacket. 

"Watch where you put your hands, M'Clain," Keith drawls dangerously. 

"It's Lance," the blue weyrling hisses back. "At least, say sorry or something, K'gane!"

"Let go of me," Keith states in a dead voice. The kind of voice even bronze rider S'hiro knows when to back off. 

"Make me."

Then Lance is on the floor, smacked right down on the floor. Shay needs to sweep the floor more often. The left side of his face hurts. He glances up at K'gane. The boy simply stands there, his chest barely heaving. _Does he even breathe?_ Geez. His fists shake. Lance pay close attention to those fists. He also pay close attention to the riders watching the show.

"Weyrlings, stop this instant!" C'ran's distinctive voice yells out. The rest of the riders melt back to their respective seats. 

"Now you've done it, _Keith_ ," Lance says sharply. He rolls back onto his feet. He simply can't resist baiting the brown rider. The wreckage of his dinner is next to him. Bits of vegetables of meat. Shattered mug. Klah everywhere. What a waste. "I will see you at Detention."

K'gane glares at him and stalks off to C'ran who stands arms akimbo, his anger matching his flame-colored coiffure and moustache. Lance follows suit, a few seconds behind. C'ran doesn't bother for them to salute. His tirade is loud and long. 

Where the bronze riders are sitting, next to the high table, S'hiro shakes his head. He has warned Keith to keep his temper in check countless times as a caring older brother would. The brown rider can't afford another transfer. T'hace has been very patient. Other Weyrleaders might not be that understanding or compassionate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keith's dragon is called Redeth. :D
> 
> (Pidge's green is Viridath. We also get to see a glimpse of S'hiro whose dragon is called Silvarath).


	3. Hunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where the gentle giant prefers to stay in the kitchens of the Lower Caverns to cook.

His official weyr name when he Impressed Calth is T'ler, but most people call him Hunk. He is a big teenager with broad shoulders and solid thighs that Weyrlingmaster C'ran joked would carry the weight of the entire Benden Weyr. A gentle giant, he is easygoing, prone to moments of anxiety, and helpful to the women in the kitchens of the Lower Caverns. Unlike Lance who is from rider stock, Hunk hails from a sea-coast hold and he remembers fishing under the sun with his father. 

Calth, his brown, is a reflection of his rider. Also easygoing and kind, the brown often enjoys sunning himself on the ledge. Because of his rider's age and that they came from an earlier Hatching, Calth is considered full-grown, and Hunk a full-fledged rider, technically under I'verson's wing. He is not wing-second yet. Will never be, he is insistent on this. He is not wing-second material, no thank you. 

Hunk is not sure if he is ever up to facing a full Threadfall. Weyrlingmaster C'ran often likes to scare weyrlings with horror stories. "Look at this scar," he would reveal one across his belly very proudly. "I got it when I got too close to this particular clump. Naturally, I was there to destroy it..." 

Hunk have seen the damage Thread can do to the land. His sea-hold still bears the hollow burrows made by ancient Threadfall. The things eat into vegetation. They have a more voracious appetite than he has.

That's why he likes to spend his fruitful hours in the kitchen, chopping up tubers and stirring the stews in the massive pots. Shay allows him to do that. Shay has just been made headwoman. She is about his age, but already very competent. The women like her. She is kind, but firm. Thoughtful, but focused. He likes her.

Today, he finds himself glancing nervously at the sky. It was terribly cold last night. He ended up curling beside Calth for warmth. He has a bad feeling about this. Nothing bodes well when the Red Star gleams in the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that Hunk is called Hunk Garrett, but for the sake of the story, I am using the first name of his voice actor as his name. 
> 
> Of course, his dragon is a brown and also a gentle giant.


	4. Pidge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get an introduction to our favorite Green rider (pilot!) and Allura shows her caring side.

Pidge refuses to be called Katie. Katie was the girl standing on the steaming sands of the Hatching Ground, her eyes fixed on the shaking egg in front of her. It had an interesting pattern, like a sun-burst. She had eyed the egg when they were brought to the Hatching Ground to familiarize themselves. When the Hatching Day finally came, she made for the egg and stood in front of it. 

She wanted a blue or a brown. Or even a bronze. But you know, girls are not supposed to ride bronzes, blues and browns. They are meant for boys. Katie was infuriated at Pernese rules and regulations. When the sun-burst egg cracked open, Katie fell in love with the spinning rainbow eyes of the green dragonet who went unerringly towards her.

_I am Viridath_ , the green dragonet announced in her head. _What is your name?_

"Pidge," the name came automatically to the lips. And Pidge it is. 

Of course, for all purposes and on official records kept by the diligent weyrwomen, Katie is the name of the girl who Impressed green Viridath.

"Are you a girl or a boy?" the weyrlings in Pidge's batch often asked with a hint of sarcasm. 

"What do you think?" Pidge would always challenge back. After a while, they gave up. Pidge is fine with she/her. Pidge is also fine with he/his.

"What if Viridath rises to mate?" Allura, the senior queen rider and Weyrwoman, asked Pidge gently once. "Have you ever thought of that?"

Allura went on to explain how mating flights work. Pidge sat through the talk with a pained expression. Can Viridath stay asexual? Can she just stay immature forever? Pidge knew that it would not last for long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not surprised that Pidge will chafe at strict Pernese rules and laws sometimes.


	5. S'hiro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> S'hiro's thoughts.

Silvarath's wings sweep the air effortlessly as the bronze dragon skims across one of the many cirque lakes dotted near Benden. The dragon's pleasure echoes in S'hiro's head, making him smile as well, Silvarath's joy humming down his limbs like a rush of warm sun light. Behind them, the wing spreads out in a precise formation. S'hiro's men are the best in the Weyr, next to T'hace's. Many jockey to be in his wing. 

The patrol is almost done. With the Red Star due to appear anymore, S'hiro is not taking chances. Not with Benden Hold so vulnerable with its lush orchards and vineyards. 

_The Weyr is in front of us_ , Silvarath says. _Should we land?_

The familiar shape of the volcano rises before them. Silvarath signals his presence by roaring, repeated by the dragons in the wing. The air resonates with their voices. The watch dragon dips his brown head. Calth, Hunk's brown dragon. 

As the dragons spiral down to land, glad for the relative warmth of the Weyr, S'hiro reflects on the issue of Keith, young K'gane whose recent antics got C'ran infuriated and T'hace looking at him pointedly as if to say "He's your problem. What can you do about him?"

In a way, the Weyrleader is right. It is S'hiro's problem. Keith was a Fort Weyr transfer, after having gotten under S'dak's skin and causing a few fights in S'dak's orderly - perhaps too orderly - Weyr. Fort has a reputation to maintain. But so does Benden. They are not in the habit of accepting strays. 

Yet, Benden has welcomed K'gane with open arms; everyone is kind to the Fort boy. He is still a weyrling, close to becoming a full-fledged rider. His fight with the loud mouth blue rider has almost jeopardized his chance of staying even longer in Benden. 

Igen Weyr does not want him. Y'vik is a nervous man and with K'gane around in his Weyr, it is probably not a good idea. High Reaches Weyr might accept him ...on the condition that he does not go into one of his rages and start a fight with somebody. S'hiro knows its Weyrleader. M'hew is his good friend and hails from the same Hatching. Matt -to his friends - is congenial and friendly. He only recently became Weyrleader after his old predecessor threw open the mating flight. Besides, he is Pidge's older brother, both sharing the shock of bright hair. 

So High Reaches might be a good idea, if K'gane messes up again. 

Silvarath's claws scrap the earth as he lands deftly, fanning his wings hard. S'hiro is surprised to see Allura standing right in front of the bronze dragon. She places her right hand on the dragon's snout, closing her eyes.

_I like Allura_ , Silvarath says, his eyes slowly spinning.

"You like Allura, because she is the Weyrwoman, you silly boy," S'hiro chuckles, unbuckling his riding straps. 

_I like Alteath too_ , Silvarath's voice has a hint of longing. 

Now that's the perennial question on everybody's lips all the time. _Why didn't Silvarath catch Alteath in her last mating flight?_ The strongest bronze dragon who caught her was T'hace's Soketh. Silvarath was the third dragon that broke away from the bunch of bronzes, had almost caught up, and faltered at the last minute. 

"One day," S'hiro says, patting the dragon affectionately.

Allura is still standing there, her hands clasped in front of her. She has arranged her white hair into a neat bun. The blue of her tunic complements her dusky skin. S'hiro feels the familiar flutter in his stomach. He has to admit that, like Silvarath, he likes Allura too. A trace of disappointment surfaces quickly before fading away.

He knows that Allura has a soft spot for him. Perhaps there is hope. He glances up at the golden form of Alteath, curled up on her weyr's ledge. She is not ready to mate yet. 

"Come," Allura's voice is soft, kind. "You look tired. Let's have some hot klah, shall we?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Silvarath should have flown the queen dragon.


	6. Cleaning Toilets Is Never Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Lance clean toilets. Lance gets angry at Keith.

"Oh wow, what a wonderful smell!" Lance hisses sarcastically, his hand holding a toothbrush, his toothbrush. "Isn't it nice that someone has done an enormous shit the night before?"

Keith ignores the blue dragon rider, his eyes fixed on the enamel and tiles. Oh yes, the toilets are dirty, very dirty. There are bits and pieces of hardened earth and some other things he has no heart to describe, let alone identify.

"Clean the male latrines," C'ran boomed. He was furious. Weyrlings fighting in the Lower Caverns. Unruly young men. What in Pern was happening? Two hot-heads in the same room together spelt disaster. So off to the latrines the two weyrlings went, armed with the only personal cleaning utensils they possessed: their toothbrushes. 

Of course, C'ran had Shay prepare new toothbrushes for the lads once they were done cleaning the latrines.

"What's your problem, dude?" Lance continues his baiting, glaring from the corner of his eye while he scrubs away at some dark gunk on one of the seats. "What's your beef with everyone?"

"Shut up," the brown rider mutters. "Just get this over and done with and we will be even."

"Even? Since when are we even?" Lance blurts out incredulously. 

"Just shut up," Keith growls. 

Lance notes with some satisfaction that the brown thing comes away after a few hard scrubs from his toothbrush. He imagines it as Keith's face. "I don't know why you are so angry all the time, dude. You need to chill, like enjoy life. I am your rival..."

"I am?" Keith's voice has a hint of amusement. "Really?"

"I saw you beat S'hiro's dragon in the last race we had, two weeks ago. You are fast! But hey, I am faster..."

"You think highly of yourself, don't you?" 

"Of course, I do! Only the best!" Lance winks cockily. 

"Shards, I am stuck with a blow-hard," Keith rolls his eyes.

"Who's calling who's a blow-hard?" Lance blusters. 

Keith's silence is his answer. He scrubs his particular spot with increased diligence. Lance flushes red, his cheeks burning. He is going to come back with a good... comeback. He is... Lance shuts up and thinks a thousand of nasty things he would say to Keith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Toilet duty is never fun. :D
> 
> Fan-art, feedback, kudos... always welcome!


	7. Allura

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allura mulls over numbers. She worries too much.

Allura finds herself sitting cross-legged on the huge stone chair in the Council Room, a bound leather book opened before her. It is last Turn's Record, meticulously maintained by her and the rest of the queen riders, Fala and Merla. She leans forward and strokes the page thoughtfully. Hardly any dust at all. 

She is mulling over the number of eggs laid by Alteath and Linath, Fala's queen. Merla is a new queen rider and her golden dragon, Orlath, has not risen to mate yet. Orlath is from Alteath's last clutch two Turns ago, her Hatching an occasion of joy for all of Benden Weyr. It means Benden has three queen dragons now. Enough to provide guidance and eggs for the Pass. 

Alteath's last clutch had forty eggs, Linath's thirty. The bumper crop of weyrlings is proof of the queens' fecundity. Allura's father used to tell her that it is always a sign that the Red Star is imminent when the numbers grow. More men and women are needed to fight the insidious Thread. Should she be more concerned that there are more greens and blues? Should she be more focused on the collection and storage of firestone so that they are ready when Thread finally comes? Are the flamethrowers checked for any sign of malfunctioning? Should she go and talk to the smiths again?

Or, should she ask C'ran to conduct more training exercises for the older weyrlings? She trusts C'ran more than anything. He is like her second father, when A'for died in a tragic accident. T'hace thinks she is overly worried. She is. She is the Weyrwoman of Benden. She has to worry. The lives of men and women, some of them boys and girls, are in her hands. 

More training exercises then. Better to be ready than to be sorry, C'ran always tells her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merla and Fala are names of characters from Voltron: Defender of the Universe. Merla was a wicked and sassy queen who collaborated with Prince Lotor.
> 
> I just hope this Merla is a nice one. :D
> 
> I also need to come up with the list of rider and dragon names soon.


	8. C'ran

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> C'ran sets up a challenge...

"This exercise will test your dragon's agility and your alertness," the Weyrling announces to the group of young riders who are holding their bags of firestone as if they are carrying poisonous bugs. Some of them are fidgeting nervously. "Imagine you are facing falling Thread. What can you do?"

"Flame it down," the familiar voice of Lance replies without fail. The blue rider is leaning against his dragon, a tad too cockily for C'ran's liking. He is going to _sit_ the boy down and _talk to_ him after the exercise is done. 

"Not only you need to flame it down, thank you, M'Clain," C'ran says pointedly. "But you also need to be alert to how air is moving. Remember, when you are up there, you are going to experience strong winds. A wrong gust and you are in a world of pain."

Two or three riders swallow, suddenly anxious. They all remember C'ran's lectures about falling burning ash. The rest of them stare at the streamers hung across the Weyr like festive decorations. They range from the easiest (a few strings of rope tied together) to the hardest (an entire clothesline festooned with clumps of rope and individual strands of cord). 

"There is a prize for the rider who is able to reach the final stage unscathed," C'ran announces. Sure enough, Lance looks more interested immediately. And the boy from Fort Weyr. K'gane. Their eyes positively gleam with anticipation. "A half-hour sleep-in for the winner."

The weyrlings roll their eyes in mock exasperation. Yet they stand up straighter, shifting excitedly on their feet. 

"Belt up," C'ran bellows. He is going to keep an eye on M'Clain and K'gane. He has a bad feeling about these two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... and immediately regrets it.
> 
> Sometimes, it is fun to imagine how the Weyrlingmasters instruct and train weyrlings. I often wonder how they teach Thread-fighting, what kind of methods they use.


	9. Competition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Lance and Keith compete for a half-hour sleep-in, a mid-air collision (almost) and C'ran is hopping mad.

Lance flexes his shoulders and neck, shaking out the kinks. He glances at the dragon beside Ceruleath. Redeth looks just as focused as his rider, his wings twitching and tail swinging slowly like a feline about to pounce. Lance is going to get his sleep-in, no matter what. C'ran has what they call the glare of death on his face. He stands beside his old brown dragon, Plath, twirling his moustache irritably. 

It is so going to be easy. Lance sees a pattern in the series of silly string and streamers. There is a clear path through all these and he is often nicknamed the sharp-shooter for a reason. Quick bursts of flame. Destroy the 'Thread'. Move on. 

"Firestone!" C'ran shouts. 

Ceruleath begins to chew the rock slowly, thoughtfully. Around Lance, the other dragons crunch their firestone. He listens to the bits of chewed rock rolling down their throats. It is that quiet, that tense. Beneath his butt and his boots, he feels the rumble of gas in Ceruleath's stomach. It sounds like a miniature thunder-storm.

"On your mark, ready, go!" The Weyrlingmaster yells and blows his whistle. The game is on.

Redeth takes off, the brown dragon's wings pumping vigorously. Lance yelps. Without hesitation, Ceruleath leaps into the air. 

*

Keith huddles down, feeling the wind rush past his face, into his face. The wind also bears the hint of ash and smoke. No wonder the experienced riders wear face-masks. It is not only _cold_ , but breathing with all the burnt stuff is _hard_. 

"Left," he instructs Redeth. Redeth obeys immediately; he swerves and spits out a gout of orange flame. The cords disintegrate, the black ashes scattering. Keith pays close attention to the spurts of fire about and around him. Up and below. Clouds of ash thicken the air, turning it hazy.

A blue dragon darts right in front of them, cuts in front of them. Redeth is quick to react, veering a sharp right, lest they end up hitting the dragon and his rider. Keith grits his teeth. _Lance, you stupid fool_. Redeth rolls, his wings giving him a quick burst of speed. The brown rider sees Lance's startled expression. Redeth has managed to fly past the blue dragon. The last stage is right before them. 

Lance must have urged his dragon to go faster, because Ceruleath catches up, his wings beating hard. By this time, the two dragons are so close to each other that Keith can smell the phosphorus stink of the blue's breath and feel the body heat radiating from his body. Keith has to duck. The blue's wings are loud above his head. It is a miracle that Redeth's wings are not tangled up. 

Keith hears the distant roaring of dragons. He ignores them. He wants to stay alive!

Redeth tucks his body in as if he is swimming underwater and drops a few feet, causing Keith to cry out in shock. His stomach hurts. He feels like he has been punched in the gut. 

_Beware!_ Redeth says breathlessly. He roars out fire, Keith ducking down to shield his face from the heat and the resulting hot ash. 

Belatedly, numbly, Keith realizes he has won. 

*

When they finally land, their bodies aching from the exertion, they are welcomed by the cheering of the weyrlings... and the angry words of C'ran.

"M'Clain! What in Faranth's name do you think you are doing? That is shit awful flying. You endangered your dragon's and your lives!"

Keith pulls his goggles off his face, glad to breath fresh air. His entire jacket is coated in black dust. Lance is yelling something else at him. 

"Well, he cheated. He darted right in front of me!" The blue rider's eyes flash dangerously. Keith notices, idly, that he has nice eyes. Like his dragon, his eyes are also blue. 

"Nevertheless, you almost killed each other in mid-air!" C'ran snarls. "What's this? Rank competition? You can't do this if you are in a proper wing!"

"Bloody hell, I am not going to be in a wing with him!" Lance shakes his head. His entire body is shaking with anger.

"Sir," Keith has to say something. "Sir, his dragon cut in front of mine. There was almost a mid-air collision. I have not done anything wrong. I only did what I could do to save myself and Redeth."

"You cheated!" Lance insists hotly. "You cheated!" His blue trumpets, affected by his rider's emotions. Dragons answer him, trumpeting and calling. The Weyr rings with dragon cries. Then, golden Alteath snarls out a warning and the hullabaloo dies down swiftly. She hisses at Ceruleath who simply lowers his head sheepishly and looks pathetic. 

"I won fair and square," Keith states coldly. "Sir, permission to shower and change."

C'ran sees the ominous glint in Keith's eyes. Bronze rider S'hiro has warned him about it. He gulps down his anger. He will deal with the two separately, later. Lance begins to start toward the brown rider, but is firmly restrained by the Weyrlingmaster.

"Permission granted."

Without a word, Keith marches back towards the barracks.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith is given a second chance (then third, fourth etc).

"Your brother," T'hace speaks very carefully, as if every word is considered. "Your brother almost collided with M'Clain during the training exercise."

S'hiro sighs inwardly. He has confronted Keith about the mid-air collision. Keith insists he is in the right, that M'Clain is indeed the culprit. 

"We can't afford this, my old friend," the Weyrleader says sadly, sitting down on his seat in the Council Room. "We can't endanger our rider's lives and their dragons'."

"He insists that he has not done anything wrong, T'hace," S'hiro counters back, knowing his own answer is weak. 

"Do you think I would give him pardon for what he's done?" 

"T'hace, for once I do not know what to say. I know that you have done enough for him. Accepted him. Let him stay in the Weyr while the others were cautious. Gave him a chance. I can't excuse him for his actions this time. This kind of behavior is not tolerated in our wings. Shall I speak to M'hew then?"

T'hace rubs his face with his hand. S'hiro knows why Allura loves him. Deep down inside that tough exterior is a compassionate man. 

"No," T'hace rumbles in his deep voice. "No. I will give him a pardon. Six more months."

"T'hace..."

"And," a smile spreads across the man's face. "I have one task for you to do: form a wing with these two lads. Make them work together, for once. You are free to add in a few more, if you wish. Have your wingsecond take over your wing for a while. Attach this wing to yours... Entirely up to you, Wingleader. "

S'hiro salutes crisply.


	11. Saying Sorry Is So... Easy?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance says sorry. Now that's easy, isn't it? Asking a brown rider out for a date... Now, that's hard.

Keith's room doesn't exactly offer him a lot of privacy. The weyrling barracks, nicknamed the Garrison by some wit, are mostly six beds per "room". Each weyrling has his or her own corner, complete with spartan bed, a small metal cabinet for their amenities and clothing, and a partition if they so need some degree of privacy. The girls have their own "rooms", segregated by a corridor. The dragons have their own sheds made of rocks. Only the weyrlings who are near graduation can afford their own weyr. 

The brown rider chose to live in the barracks, eschewing the comforts of full-fledged dragon riders. His room-mates are pleasant enough, with a couple of them being snorers. 

He sits, knees up to his chest, on his hard bed. S'hiro has just given him a stern warning. Weyrleader T'hace has been generous. He has let Keith off. The only caveat is that he now has to work together with Lance in a wing.

Six months, Keith thinks morosely. He has six months to prove himself. 

Quietly, he slips off his bed, glad that it is almost evening meal time and the barracks are relatively empty with the bulk of the weyrlings at the lake or helping out in the Lower Caverns. He opens his cabinet and takes out a scabbarded sword. He looks at it for a long time, turning it over and over in his hands. With a sigh, he pulls the blade out of the wooden scabbard. The sword is as long as his entire arm. Under the light, the sword gleams. It is a beautiful blade. 

The sword is believed to belong to his father, long gone and best forgotten. The great Z'kon, hated and loved by all. Keith hates the fact that Z'kon's blood runs in his body. He doesn't even know who his mother is. Only this sword: a link to a dead dragon man and tyrant Weyrleader he doesn't even care about and for.

A rustle tells him that someone has entered the room. 

"Keith?" 

Lance! The blue rider is annoying, isn't he? 

"I am here," Keith says, sliding the sword back into its scabbard. Lance peers in from behind the flimsy beige curtain and yelps out "Whoa! Is that yours?"

"My father's," Keith says and leaves it at that. He doesn't need another soul to start prying into his background. 

"Oh," Lance replies, looking unsure and downright sheepish. "I just came to -"

"To say what?" Keith locks the sword back in the metal cabinet. 

"Well, you know, I have been - I was a dim glow and an absolute jerk earlier. I just came... to say - um - sorry."

Keith has to smile. His smile lights up his face. Lance suddenly feels a little uncomfortable, a lot more shy than he intends to be. He is no green rider, but by the egg, Keith is a good looking man. In his white shift and riding pants, he looks... hot.

"So, I am here to say sorry. That I shouldn't have cheated and acted like a jerk," Lance's cheeks are burning hotter than before. "Um, C'ran just gave me an ear-burning lecture about safety and blah blah blah. So, um."

"Apology accepted," Keith's smile disappears as quickly as spring rain. Lance wonders if he even likes to smiles at all.

"And oh, we are in a wing now," Lance rushes on, hiding his embarrassment and ... a confusing flow of something else in his groin. "Wingleader S'hiro wants us to work together..."

"Because we apparently couldn't..." Keith finishes for him, his tone wry. 

"We could and should," Lance's bravado returns. "Let's prove to him we are not the hot-heads C'ran thinks we are!"

They both hear the ring of the dinner bell and are relieved for this brief interruption. 

"You know, I know a place in the Southern Continent, a secluded cove. . ." Lance begins. 

"Are you asking me out?" Keith's voice lowers, almost to a purr. "Really? You? You were literally at my throat a few days ago. I thought you hated me."

"It's fine if you don't - um - lean that way!" Lance's face reddens even further. Pidge and Hunk are going to laugh at him. Oh yes, they are. Shards, he shouldn't have blurted that out. Should have kept his mouth shut. "Nice place for a swim, you know? And... and I don't hate you..." Oh shut up, Lance, shut up, shut up. 

_I like Keith_ , Ceruleath adds in helpfully.

"Oh shut up, Ceri," Lance mutters back. He glances at the brown rider, afraid of rejection. That's right, Lance, he's going to say 'no' and you should go dig yourself a hole in a ground. 

"I am totally fine, Lance," Keith says, the ends of his lips curved upwards as if it is a ghost of a smile. "We just need to find the time for it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We also learn more about the brown rider's past/background.


	12. Red Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's no good when the Red Star appears in the sky.

Benden wakes up to the sound of the dragons' song: a low moaning croon that somehow penetrates through rock walls and caverns. 

C'ran runs out of his weyr, still in his sleeping tunic. Plath's eyes are spinning rapidly; the dragon hops from foot to foot, his tail swishing in wide arcs. 

The watch dragon trumpets. His call shakes the entire Weyr. All the dragons swing their heads skyward solemnly. A faint red tinge colors the dawn sky with a malevolent gleam to it. The clouds clear enough for everyone to see the planet. From a distance, it looks like an innocent pearl. A child's toy ball. Something harmless. 

"The Red Star rises," Allura turns to T'hace from where they are standing. Roused from bed, they have wrapped their sleeping furs about them. 

"Thread is here."

*

"Ok, listen up," S'hiro says sternly to the gathered dragon riders before. They stand in a semi-circle, their dragons perched behind them. Silvarath, S'hiro's bronze, is a silent sentinel watching his back, his wings neatly folded, his tail curled around his clawed feet. "From today onwards, you are now in this wing. You will also follow my wing and listen to my orders. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Wingleader!" the young riders chorus. S'hiro stares extra hard at Keith, before eyeing Lance with the same intensity. They look unusually subdued. The two other riders, Hunk and Pidge, stand at attention, their hands clasped behind their backs. They are there to provide a sense of balance to the two. Hunk has to learn to step up. He has untapped-into leadership qualities. Pidge needs to socialize more, be more outgoing. M'hew would be so proud of Pidge.

"From on, you are dragon riders. You are weyrlings no longer. You now have to work together in a proper wing and I do not accept any screw-ups, any mistakes. Learn to co-operate with each other. Listen when your partner is talking and vice versa. "

S'hiro gazes up at the Red Star, still faint in the sky. Allura has calculated the estimated time for Threadfall. Two days from now, mid-morning. Benden Hold has now been alerted via the drum signals and dragon messenger. The trick now is to know where Thread would fall. Is it somewhere above Benden Hold? Or is it the space in between the Weyr and the Hold, where stray Thread will definitely fall?

The bronze rider has a feeling that it would be the latter.

The Weyr bustles with activity. The firestone now are in all gunny sacks, readied for the fight. The Lower Caverns women are preparing the pots of numbweed cream and medical supplies like gauze and bandages. The healer attached to the Weyr, Sven, is giving his field medics a last run through of procedures, including dragon healing. In absence of actual animal healers, the medics are taught how to sew dragon wounds. 

S'hiro examines the four riders in front of him. Are they ready? 

Is he ready?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People who have watched GoLion, you might recognize the name Sven. :D
> 
> So, the weyrlings have to work as and in a team now.


	13. Day One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The waiting begins.

Allura wakes up in the pre-dawn darkness, alerted by something she can't put a finger on. Beside her T'hace stirs, mutters her name, and draws her into his arms. She curls up against his broad chest, trying to find some comfort and reassurance. He nuzzles her neck sleepily and she lets him. 

Her first Threadfall. 

And she is frightened. 

*

Pidge tosses and turns on the bed. The other girls are fast asleep. How can they sleep through this... this panic? Quietly, Pidge slips off the sheets and tip-toes, bare-footed, to where Viridath is. The green dragon has tucked her nose under her tail. But then, the tension is there: the tip of the tail twitches, as if the dragon is dreaming bad dreams. 

Pidge settles down against Viridath, grateful for her dragon's warmth. The stars still twinkle in the pre-dawn sky. Thankfully, the Red Star's baleful gleam is hidden by the clouds. 

*  
Unable to ignore his hunger anymore, Hunk leaves his barracks room and finds himself happily entering the Lower Caverns, where some of the women are already preparing breakfast. At least, the nasty old crone Haggar isn't there to boss everybody about. 

One of the big pots is already bubbling with stew. Smacking his lips, Hunk grabs a bowl from the table where they have placed all the bowls and utensils. He scoops a generous amount into the bowl. It is one of his favorites: tuber stew with chopped wherry meat. It's Shay's specialty: boiling the stock overnight with wherry bones, before adding in the meat and tubers. Creamy, with a hint of oil, so textured in flavor. It is as if he is eating a hug, almost. Pure comfort. 

He soaks the stew up with fresh bread, listening to the chatter of the women and the clatter of pots and pans. For now, he is content. 

*

S'hiro stands up straight from his bed, his gasp echoing in the weyr's emptiness. The dream/nightmare has a nameless and shapeless thing chasing him. He shakes his head, combing through his white forelock with his trembling fingers. Almost by habit, he strokes the faint scar on his nose. 

Sighing, he gets up from his furs, making his way towards his bronze's sleeping area. Silvarath won't mind a good grooming session. Anything to get his mind off Thread, always the damned Thread.


	14. Day Two.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys have a beach date. Meanwhile, the Red Star still rises.

The two weyrlings steal away in the pre-dawn light, evading the watch dragon on duty somehow. Lance has to laugh. He woke Keith up from the opposite room and the two found themselves struggling into their pants and jackets. Then they were running to their dragons, stifling their giggles. Or at least, he was. This close to Threadfall and C'ran is definitely going to have their skins for his wall-hangings or something.

Before waking Keith up, Lance had borrowed... well... stolen... a wicket basket from the Lower Caverns, stocked it up with bread and some glossy-skinned fruits. A small tub of Shay's melted chocolate, from the cold stores. Some ham. A pitcher of klah, two mugs. The klah sloshed when he carefully carried the basket up onto Ceri.

Keith signals that he is ready. The two dragons leap into the air and goes into _between_. Lance hates going _between_. It is freezing and dark. He simply focuses on where he is going to and hopes that Keith knows it or they are going to die. 

It is already dawn when they emerge above a stretch of white sand and clear sea water. Lance gulps in delicious sea-tinged air. Ceruleath spirals down to land eagerly, familiar with this cove. Redeth follows more cautiously.   
Lance strips off his jacket down to his shift. It is suddenly warm and humid. He loves it. He sees Keith jumping down from his brown dragon. Redeth seems enamored by the soft sand, clawing at it mesmerized. Ceruleath ambles over, bumping his head against the brown, gently guiding him to the sea water.

_I am asking him to go for a swim_ , Ceruleath says. 

The two dragons flop into the water with a loud splash. Soon they are happily paddling about. 

"They are just like big puppies," Lance laugh, opening the wicket basket. The klah hasn't spilled. With some theater, he lays out all the food. Of course, he has brought a mat, courtesy from the Lower Caverns stores. "Keith?"  
No wait, Keith is already in the water, with the dragons. He has stripped down to his riding pants, leaving his torso bare. The light of the rising sun highlights the firm muscles of his arms and lower abdomen, his washboard flat stomach. Keith plunges into the water and surfaces, shaking his head. His face is ecstatic. 

"Come in," Keith beckons. "The water is great."

_This Keith is nice_ , Lance decides and joins the brown rider in the water. Fortunately, they do not end up racing each other. Instead they float in the clear water, staring skyward. Even here, the Red Star's reddish shine is unavoidable. 

"So, where were you from originally?" Lance asks, lazily paddling away. The two dragons have already flopped back on to the sands, drying themselves. 

"Fort Weyr," Keith answers. "I was born there. How about you?" _So, he is rider stock after all. No more "kid from Boondocks Hold". What's the deal with the sword anyway?_ Lance wonders.

"Ista Weyr. Always close to the sea. A perfect island Weyr. Then I got Searched by Benden riders... My ma wasn't happy at all," Lance blows bubbles, keeping an eye on Keith. "My pa is also a blue rider, but I was brought up in the Lower Caverns by ma and her friends."

"So it runs in the family, uh?" Keith stretches luxuriously, unintentionally showing off his rippling back muscles. 

"Kinda. What's the deal about the sword?"

"It's my father's. I think I _told you_. Anyway, I am hungry. You have bread and klah?"

_He's evading me again_ , Lance splashes after Keith, staring at Keith's back. Across the lower back are keloid scars. Red cords of hardened scar tissue. _Now where do those come from?_

They settle down on the fine sand to enjoy the bread, fruits and klah. Keith eats as if he savors the food, like Hunk does with his. Lance bites into his plum, wincing at its sourness. Benden Hold's tithes. The fruits have not fully ripened. He opens the tub of chocolate. Melted into a semi liquid state, it is perfectly gooey. He dips his fingers into the chocolate and sucks it off slowly. So it is a blend between chocolate and hazelnut. Silently, he passes the tub to Keith who sniffs it cautiously, before coating his slice of plum liberally with the chocolate. The look on his face when he eats it is priceless. _Those are kissable lips_ , Lance muses, chewing on ham. They eat, enjoying the breeze. By now the sun has risen. It is getting warmer. The Red Star looks even closer.

"We should go," Keith gets up, dusting his pants. "C'ran is going to blow a fuse any moment now."

But Lance isn't listening. There is some... rustling, some commotion in the grove of palms fringing the cove . He ignores Keith, tracing the source of the rustling. The Southern Continent has wild life, no doubt about it. He has heard from his ma about the fabled fire lizards, the ancestors of all Pernese dragons. Probably some feline predator. Now that's scary. 

He swears he hears frantic chittering. Some bird then? He gently parts the foliage to reveal...

... a clutch of eggs. 

Small eggs, the size of his clenched fist. About ten, all resting in the fine white sand. A couple seem to be shaking, as if they are about to hatch. Something of bright gold color darts before his eyes. A tiny... Alteath. No wait... a golden... _fire lizard? Wait? What?_

"Lance?" Keith's voice.

"Shh!" 

The gold fire lizard is in a frenzy. Looking up, Lance can see why. A large predator-bird, with taloned feet, is soaring above the nest. 

"Ceruleath?" Lance calls out. 

With a rush of blue wings, Ceruleath rears up on his hind legs and roars at the predator-bird who screeches abominably. Redeth joins in, snapping at the raptor who then flies away, crying its disappointment. 

"Lance!" This time, Keith's tone is urgent. Very urgent. 

_Thread._

_Silvery thread-like things falling..._

"You have to tell the Weyr! Lance, what the hell are you doing?!" Keith shouts. 

"Rescuing babies, _can you see?!_ " Lance scoops up one with a particular golden sheen and another one with a splash of red. He wishes good luck to the rest of the eggs. 

With the eggs wrapped in his jacket, Lance runs towards Ceruleath, scooping up the basket before he climbs up his dragon. 

The date has gone pear-shaped. Drastically pear-shaped. He hates it when his plans go pear-shaped. Especially the ones with Keith.

One of the eggs decides to hatch. The golden one. An even smaller Alteath emerges, screeching hungrily. Well, it's not Alteath, but it sure looks like her. Only very tiny. Even her wings are tiny. Her blue spinning eyes latch onto Lance and he is filled with the sudden urge to protect her. 

"Oh shit," Keith mutters, panic in his voice. The other egg has also decided to follow suit. A tiny bronze pops up and heads straight for Keith like a magnet. "He... he's hungry!"

"Feed him the damned ham!" Lance snaps, frantically stripping pieces of salted meat into the golden fire lizard's open maw. She doesn't seem to mind. Just gulped down all of it. "Same concept with our dragons when they hatch. Hungry when they hatch. Holy egg, this is Impression!"

"We still need to go! Like now!" Keith yells, dutifully stuffing the bronze fire lizard with the ham and carrying the hatchling, while running to Redeth whose eyes spin in anxious yellow swirls.

"Then let's go!" 

_Hold on tight, baby, we are in for a rough ride_ , Lance tells the golden fire lizard.


	15. Calm Before The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, C'ran wants a firelizard. :D
> 
> Thread's coming.

They name the gold Auri and the bronze Brun, but not before the Weyr erupts into a furor at the sight of the tiny fire lizards. The myth has become real before their every eyes. T'hace cautions calm and common sense, issuing a stern warning to those foolhardy enough to start hunting for eggs. 

The weyrlings are given a sterner warning: _do this again and you will be grounded indefinitely_. They have their ears chewed out by C'ran and S'hiro. _Six months_ , the bronze rider reminds Keith. _You have six more months. Don't mess it up!_

"But," Lance argues, ignoring C'ran's furious glare. "Thread is falling out of whack. And in the Southern Continent. Should we be more worried about out-of-whack Threadfall?"

"That doesn't explain why you sneaked out of the Weyr... for a swim?" C'ran snorts. Secretly, he wants a fire lizard. Wouldn't it so glorious to hold one on the wrist?

Auri and Brun, full from all the fresh meat, are sound asleep, unaware of the trouble they have caused.


	16. Threadfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benden Weyr rises to fight Threadfall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you have been waiting for this. :D
> 
> The wings rise to combat Threadfall.

The entire Weyr assembles at the dawn of the day Threadfall is predicted to arrive. All the wings of dragons arrange themselves on different spots of the Weyr with the predominant spot taken by T'hace and his wing.

The women and weyrlings have toiled overnight for this, readying the sacks of firestone and making the infirmary beds have clean sheets, the cabinets well-stocked with medical supplies. Sven briefed his medics one last time before standing at the doorway of the Lower Caverns, staring out into the row after row of dragons all chewing firestone, their riders astride their necks. They now have the unpleasant business of waiting for the injured to appear. 

Dragons trumpet when the queen dragons place themselves beside T'hace's wing. The queen riders carry the large flame-throwers, triggering a cheer from the watching Lower Caverns folk and the riders. Above them, the Red Star is unabashedly brilliant as if it knows its time to wreck havoc has come. 

Where S'hiro is, the riders are silent, making sure their dragons are chewing their firestone carefully. The two hot-heads, Keith and Lance, are surprisingly focused, guiding their dragons through the chewing. They have somehow managed to leave their fire lizards in the care of C'ran who is grounded since his injury a long time ago. Pidge and Hunk are doing well, though Hunk's look of nervousness is something S'hiro is concerned about.  
The stomachs of the dragons begin to rumble with gas. T'hace pumps the air with his right fist, a signal for them to take off. Wings rifle the air as the wings make their way skywards. A linked signal from Soketh... and all the wings disappear _between_...

... and blink out of it, above Benden Hold. Warning bells are ringing faintly from the Hold's watch towers. The queen's wing sweeps low, the healthy gold of the dragons lifting spirits and promptly another cheer from the riders. 

_Keep your eyes peeled_ , Silvarath says, his tone tense. He has somehow learnt some phrases from his rider. Like dragon, like rider, as they always say. S'hiro smiles, leaning over to give his dragon a quick pat on the neck. He risks another glance at the wing of young riders. They are still in the formation as though they have hardly moved. Hunk looks as if he wants to vomit. 

_Here it comes!_ Silvarath's cry is echoed by all the dragons. 

At first, the Threadfall looks beautiful, a shimmery silver rain that is not really rain. It reminds S'hiro of festive streamers, only that these beautiful strands harm, hurt and kill living organisms. The illusion is smashed when the dragons burst into action, breathing fire and veering away sharply as the wings begin to attack the Thread. The skies blossom with balls of flame as dragons destroy clumps of Thread. Silvarath heads straight for a particularly entangled mass, as if the dragon instinctively knows how to seek their ancient enemy and burn it to cinders. And burn it cinders he does, roaring a gout of bright flame. S'hiro watches with satisfaction when the Thread crackles into burnt crisps. 

His wing is doing fine, his own men finely trained and honed by him and his wingsecond, Rax, Shay's brother. S'cott to his men, but Rax to a select few. Their dragons are swift, alert, and burning Thread as they should. Effectively. 

His rag-tag wing is doing also surprisingly fine. The brown and blue dragons are moving about fluidly, as if they own the skies, incinerating Thread as they fly. Pidge's green is chasing a clump of Thread. Hunk seems to have controlled his fear of flight; Calth is breathing fire at a mass of silver strands. 

"Stay focused!" S'hiro admonishes Hunk who nods and grips his riding belts lest he falls. "Trust your dragon. Listen to him!"

Beneath them the queen's wing catches any stray Thread that has somehow evaded the dragons. Allura, Merla and Fala are putting their flame-throwers to good use. 

A hideous scream pierces through the air. S'hiro's heart turns to water. The injured dragon disappears _between_. _Blue Verith_ , Silvarath informs him. _Right wing burnt_. Not his wing, not his wing. 

The bronze rider knows that there will be more.

*

When S'hiro's wing finally returns back to the Weyr, they are greeted by the sight of injured dragons, their wings spread and burnt. Moaning fills the air. As his wing lands, women run up to give them mugs of fresh klah and refill their empty firestone sacks. He watches Sven attending to a man who has burnt his face, his dragon hovering close to him worriedly. Another field medic tends to a dragon whose wings are raw and bleeding, the rider comforting him mournfully. The man looks close to collapsing. 

Keith has somewhat obtained a cut on his face. Shay insists on dabbing numbweed cream on the shallow cut. The boy looks tired, but relatively unscathed, nursing some hot soup in a mug. Lance looks cheerful, chatting with Pidge. Hunk's face is pale, but he will live. 

When they are done with resting and their sacks are full, S'hiro's wing returns back to the Threadfall site. They go straight into the battle, singeing, burning, breathing fire. It is close to early evening when they are finally done and the air space above Benden Hold is announced clean of Thread. Yet, returning back to the Weyr is not a joyous occasion. Many wounded dragons lay in various parts of the Weyr, tended to by Sven and the healers. Ten dragons out of commission, with many others bearing minor cuts and scrapes. T'hace and his wingsecond walk around the Weyr, talking to the men who sit beside their injured dragon companions and pausing to give an encouraging word or two to riders who try to sit up on their make-shift beds and greet the Weyrleader wearily. The more seriously wounded ones are in the infirmary, watched over by the capable Lower Caverns women and Fala, who is an accomplished nurse. 

Raucous screeches turn heads, but it is just Auri and Brun, zooming out from C'ran's weyr so that they could wrap their long tails around Lance's and Keith's necks. The young men laugh and pull the fire lizards off them before they pamper the little creatures silly with meaty treats and scratches under their chins. 

Pidge is glad for the hot water in the bathing pool in the weyr. 

Hunk is glad for terra firma, and promises himself never to give up. He will be a good rider one day. 

Lance falls asleep the moment his head hits the pillow, Auri curled up aside his head. Keith takes a while longer to settle down, his body still feeling the vestiges of adrenaline. He realizes he loves fighting Thread, the thrill of flying Redeth through the ash and the fire. It is said that Z'kon was like that too: iso in love with the glory of Thread fighting that he let it get into his head.

S'hiro grooms Silvarath, lavishing praise on his brave dragon, his clever dragon. The bronze dragon complains of an itch between his wings and S'hiro dutifully scratches that area. 

Allura waits for T'hace to return to their shared weyr. He has a lot of things on his mind. The condition of his men is his utmost priority. They will probably talk into the night. Her first Threadfall. Alteath has done well, leading the queens into combat for the first time. They have caught and destroyed Thread. Sleep will come easy for her. 

Thread will fall again, no doubt about it.


	17. The Old Crone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get to see the infamous Haggar.

The Weyr settles down after the first Threadfall. The gap between the next Threadfall allows the wounded dragons and riders to rest and heal. One dragon might not even fly again. A loss to the Weyr, T'hace felt. Hopefully, if Merla's Orlath rises to mate, there will be more eggs and more riders. It will be a long Pass.

Haggar, the old crone, bosses the women around in the Lower Caverns, waving her cane. She often wears a hooded cloak to shield her face. Her voice, though, harries people. Some say that she is a former headwoman, disgraced and left alone by the Weyr. Some gossip that she is an old queen rider who had lost her queen and was rendered insane by her dragon's death. The former Weyrleader had taken her in out of pity. Now she drifts like a lost soul, an old bitter spirit, tormenting the cooks and cleaners in the kitchen. 

Something seems to have unsettled Haggar. She sets about cursing at Shay who pointedly ignores her, the cooks who just stare at their tubers and pretend to chop them with more zeal (and hope she goes away), and demands Allura speak to her. The Weyrwoman has wisely left Benden early in the morning to confer with her counterpart at Fort Weyr. The two other queen riders, Fala and Merla, give the excuse they are busy checking the flamethrowers, because "we are afraid the agenothree levels have gone low". They all want to get away from Haggar as tactfully as they can.

Haggar is such a dark presence in the Lower Caverns. She walks, spreading her bitterness around like an awful aura. Out of spite, she kicks over the stack of clean pots, spits into a pot of stew, and throws the new cheese into the fireplace. 

She plots in the dark of the Lower Caverns, where the disused tunnels were. She is going to get her revenge. Oh, to ride a queen dragon once more...


	18. The Care And Feeding Of Firelizards (And Brown And Blue Riders)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Lance talk, by the lake.

The care and feeding of Auri and Brun, not to mention their bigger cousins, keep Lance and Keith busy for a few days. They are glad that Threadfall isn't due until the next week or so. While they scrub their dragons in the lake, they listen to the other riders conversing close to them. Fort Weyr had flown against Thread. Their casualties are low, but the entire Weyr is on high-alert, as the Thread seem erratic. High Reaches reported burrows at places they thought were secured. Even Ista Weyr, Lance's home Weyr, was uneasy.

"I told you Thread is out-of-whack," Lance winks at Keith. "Trust my dragony senses."

Keith focuses on scrubbing Redeth's neck ridge with a rough brush. The brown seems to enjoy it, crooning appreciatively while the bristles remove dirt and other irritants. 

_You left a spot there_ , Redeth reminds his dragon. _Between my neck and wing_. 

Keith dutifully scrubs that area until the brown dragon rolls contently. 

"They are really just big puppies," Lance laughs, patting Ceruleath's gleaming hide. 

_The little ones come_ , Ceruleath snorts and joins Redeth in contented rolling. Indeed, two smaller shapes dart from their hiding place in the weyrling barracks, squawking loudly. Auri is the first to wrap her around Lance's neck, while Brun is the more sensible one, landing on Keith's left shoulder. 

"Shards, your claws!" Keith pulls the bronze firelizard away. Firelizard claws are needle-sharp. "Behave!" the brown rider cautions the little creature. Brun seems to understand. This time, he rests gently on Keith's shoulder. 

Lance manages to unwrap Auri's long tail, gasping a little. "They should write a book about caring for firelizards! She almost killed me!" Auri mewed piteously. "Oh, sorry, baby," Lance softens immediately and tickles her chin. 

Keith stretches, shaking out the kinks in his neck. He can't wait for Threadfall. The waiting is making him restless. Fidgety. "You should tell that to T'hace. He thinks we are deliberately stirring things up with our firelizards.   
S'hiro tells me that they had caught a couple of riders who smuggled in more eggs. Allura granted them permission to keep them."

"No way!" Lance bursts out laughing. "The more the merrier."

"You are always that optimistic, aren't you?

"I _am_ an eternal optimist, don't you know?"

"Yeah, sure."

Lance assumes an offended look. "Oh, I am _hurt_."

Keith's lips quirk, almost a grin. "Give it up. I am not falling for it."

"Boo," Lance mutters glumly. "Kill-joy."

"I wonder what would happen if they grow up," Keith strokes Brun. Lance finds himself drawn to the look of tenderness on Keith's face as he attends to Brun. 

"They mate? Same as the golden-bronze dragon thing?"

They stare at each other for a moment. Lance laughs weakly. "No wait. If Brun catches Auri, that would be like _wrong_ , right? Luckily, with more eggs hatching - fingers crossed! - Brun will have competition."

_What if Brun really catches Auri?_ the blue rider catches Keith looking at him strangely. "You never know. He might end up catching her," Keith shrugs. 

"You... don't mind? I am not sure how firelizard matings work though. Less powerful than the dragon ones? I think we still get..."

"Aroused?" 

"Geez, I was just about to say that," Lance grouses. "But you really don't mind, don't you?"

"I have woken up to uglier bedmates," Keith said, glancing at him with those eyes. Lance feels his face reddening straightaway. "Caught you. I meant my barrack mates, Mr _Optimist_. Most of them snore. And if you want my answer: I don't mind."

This time, they are close enough to touch, close enough for their lips to brush. Lance's heart pounds. A step closer and Keith can easily, simply close the tiny tiny gap between them... 

Keith pulls away, laughing. "Let's not get our hopes yet. We just Impressed them, remember?"

"Uh, drat."

Redeth stirs, opening his eyes. _Winds coming. Cold_.

"Come, let's get indoors," the brown rider beckons to Lance, picking up his brushes and towel. "I heard Shay is making a new pot of wherry stew. Want to join me?"

"Sure thing!" Lance chuckles. _It's going to work_ , he thinks jubilantly. _It's finally going to work. I am going to kiss him one day!_


	19. Shay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shay is at the end of her tether when it comes to Haggar. Hunk comforts her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for not posting as frequently as I should/could. Life got in the way and for the past two weeks, I had an awful viral infection with high fever and rashes. Now that I have some energy back, I am posting again. 
> 
> Here's a [banner/cover](http://blackwolfchng.tumblr.com/post/157732451514/just-for-fun) I made for fun. Link's from my 'main/official' tumblr site: I also write urban/contemporary fantasy and science fiction in my other alter-ego. :D (Picture credit from Pixabay.com)

The young headwoman of Benden Weyr finds another batch of stew ruined by the spiteful old crone. She simply carries the entire pot to the midden. Her heart sinks as she watches the stew drain away. She has to make a new batch all over. But the supplies are not infinite and Benden is late again with its tithes. Shay has to dip into the stores to retrieve the salted ham which she has planned to use for winter. 

She doesn't understand what makes Haggar so bitter. They have given her lodgings and food. What else could she want? 

"You alright?" Hunk approaches her, concern in his dark brown eyes. 

"It's Haggar again," Shay's frustration seeps through her hand-wringing. "She just spoiled tonight's dinner. I don't know what's wrong with her."

"Have you told the Weyrleaders? Allura and T'hace have to know!" Hunk gathers her into his arms. To his happy surprise, she leans against his chest. 

"I did! But I hate to look like I'm complaining!" Shay stares back at him with eyes filled with tears. She's really at her wits' end. "I can't just chase her away!"

"Maybe you can, maybe you can't," Hunk whispered into her hair. It smells sweet, floral. "Come, let's us prepare the new batch. I will guard it with my life so that she doesn't dare to come close!"

"You're so kind," Shay giggles, swatting his arm. They walk towards the kitchen together.


	20. Plummeting Down With Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second Threadfall. Lance gets injured.

The second Threadfall is estimated to fall close to Benden Hold, next to the mountains. Close enough to the important vineyards that produce the famed Benden Red. 

Dragonriders sit upright on their dragons, the memories of the first Threadfall still fresh in their minds. The injured are still recovering. S'hiro's wing assembles on time at his behest. Hunk, at least, looks more confident. 

With a signal from T'hace and Soketh, the wings launch themselves between. 

*

Thread are already falling when they emerge, causing the dragons to swerve and veer away immediately. Bursts of fire dot the air as the wings struggle to get the Thread under control. These ones are falling in single strands, barreling surely towards the vulnerable vineyards. 

Silvarath is doing well, turning the silvery spores into dust. S'hiro pats his dragon's neck affectionately. The rest of the wing seems coping well to the unpredictable Threadfall. Calth is diving down, spitting bright flames at a clump. Viridath pursues a stray strand with the tenacity of a hunting feline. 

There is a shriek, an unholy shriek that tears the sky into half. 

A blue dragon plummets down, right wing wreathed in fire. 

_Ceruleath_.

Before S'hiro could yell out something, anything, the blue dragon has disappeared between. Brown Redeth follows suit.

*

They pop high above Benden Weyr. Ceruleath is free-falling, his wing now burnt, the flames put out by the extreme cold of between. Lance has fainted. His unconscious body is still clinging onto the riding straps, knuckles white, right arm charred dark brown, almost black.

"Lance!" Keith screams, heart in throat, but the winds rips the words away. 

Redeth angles himself under Ceruleath so that he arrests the break-neck speed of the falling Ceruleath. Unconscious, the blue dragon is a dead weight and the brown dragon howls out with pain as the forces of gravity push Ceruleath into his body. The brown persists, his wings beating slow and hard, breathing hard. By now, Plath has appeared, C'ran gesticulating frantically. With some effort, the two brown dragons manage to bring the blue back to the Weyr. 

It is chaos the moment they land. Keith sees Lance's limp form slipping off the neck of his dragon, quickly supported by Sven's healers. His right arm is burned, the skin an angry red. Plath pants, the old dragon having expended too much energy. Redeth trumpets and nudges Ceruleath worriedly with his muzzle. 

"Will he be alright?" Keith confronts Sven, jutting himself right in front of the man. The Weyr's healer wearily nods before attending quickly to Lance while the rest of the healers work on Ceruleath's destroyed wing. The blue dragon has regained consciousness and whimpers in pain, while he tries to wake his rider. The sight hurts Keith more than he could ever explain. Auri and Brun dart in, chittering as if the world has ended. They bury themselves, heads first, into Keith's riding jacket. Their soft cries are not helping his mood and temper.

"Permission to stay with M'Clain," he grabs C'ran's arm. "Please, sir."

"Your wing needs you," C'ran's voice sounds unusually tired. Even his face is paler than normal. "They still fight Thread over the Hold."

"Please," Keith repeats urgently. 

"Granted," C'ran nods before he shuffles away to his dragon, wincing at the flare of pain from his old injury.


	21. Never Leave Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance regains consciousness. Keith gets angry with him.

Lance hangs between states of half-consciousness and half-pain, sometimes sinking and sometimes floating as the medicine flows through his bloodstream. He fancies watching himself, blue dragonrider Lance, as if from a distance, hovering over the bed, where Sven and a healer work on his arm. His arm is raw, like skinned wherry or livestock. But it doesn't shock him. Instead he watches idly as Sven dresses it with clean bandages. The burn spreads along his arm until his shoulder. They have removed his riding jacket and shirt. So skinny, so pale - he laughs and the darkness wraps him up again. Somewhere he hears Ceruleath keening away, such a painful and sorrowful sound. 

When he finally comes to, his throat is dry as the sands of Igen Weyr's beach front. "Water," he croaks and somebody shoves a mug into his hands. His fingers shake. He manages to lift the mug to his lips. The water tastes clean and sweet in his mouth, wonderful down his throat. 

"You gave us a shock," a young woman touches his forehead with a cool hand. He recognizes the flax-gold hair immediately: Fala. She smiles warmly. "No more fever. It has broken at last."

"Fever?" Lance whispers, feeling the extreme pull of fatigue in his limbs. He feels so bone-tired.

"You had an infection," Fala clears the mug away, checking his bandage next. "High fever. We suspect your body was trying to fight the infection and deal with the injury at the same time. You pulled through, thank Faranth."

"Gotta love Igen blood. We are tough people," Lance laughs weakly and starts coughing. Fala frowns, giving him some more water to drink. The coughing subsides. Lance feels as if he has run around the Weyr a hundred times. "My arm... Will it heal? Can I still use it?" he asks. He has to ask. He wants to know.

"Yes. Will be stiff and tender for a while, when the new skin grows up. Might be some scarring, but you will still use your arm."

"Oh."

"Tell it to the brown rider who sat beside your bed the whole time. I managed to convince him to go eat. Sven and I almost had to peel him away from the chair."

Brown rider? _Keith?_

_You are awake!_ Ceruleath's joyful voice interrupts his thoughts. 

"Of course, I'm awake, silly!" Lance replies back, glad to hear his dragon.

Fala giggles. "And your blue was beside himself. Linath had to persuade him to go hunt. His wing is healing very quickly. You have people and dragons who love you very much."

And... Keith. Keith was...is... here. All the time! Lance's heart beat painfully in his chest. Almost as if in sympathy, his arm throbs with remembered pain. 

"Ah, there he is," Fala grins, nodding at an approaching figure at the door. "I will let you both have some time alone."

The junior weyrwoman walks away to check on other convalescing riders, some with more serious injuries. At her wake walks in Keith, looking worse for wear. His cheekbones have sunk in, his eyes dull without the usual fire. The sparkle returns when he sees Lance awake. 

"You almost gave me a scare!" Keith hisses, the words tumbling out from his mouth in a messy tangle of anger and relief. "What kind of shit flying was that?" 

"The first thing I hear from you is a scolding?" Lance retorts and slumps back into the bed, head sinking into the pillow. Even retorting takes most of the energy out from his body. His head spins. He glances at the bandage wrapping his arm. They have just recently changed it. While Keith seethes quietly, unable to give voice to his true feelings, Lance flexes his arm tentatively. No pain. The numbweed cream must have dulled the pain. Not to mention dosages of fellis juice and whatnot.

"I was...worried sick," Keith manages to say, staring at his boots. "You were almost out for a week."

"A week is nothing, " Lance's old bravado inches back in. Keith glares at him, the familiar rage, barely restrained, roiling beneath. 

"I don't believe you can still joke about _this_!" the brown rider clenches his fists, suppressing an imminent outburst with all his might. He wants to clobber the idiot, slap some sense into him... and kiss him full on the mouth for being awake and _alive_. Startled at the intensity of his feelings, especially about kissing Lance full on the lips, Keith keeps his mouth. Back at Fort, he never bothered about relationships. Sure, the Fort riders were good-looking and many tried to get his attention. Both male and female riders went away disappointed. The brown riders he know have men and women as mates. Brown dragons sometimes catch greens during their mating flights. Yet he never felt any desire... until he met Lance. 

"Keith?" Lance's voice draws him back to the present. 

The blue rider's smile, though wan and lacking the usual devil-may-care panache, warms his heart. At least, he looks heaps better than the limp figure he remembered falling off Ceruleath's neck.

"Thank you," Lance says. 

Keith's face heats up, the warmth going right up into his ear lobes. He grabs Lance's good arm and squeezes hard enough for the blue rider to wince aloud. "Promise me this. Never leave the wing like this. I want to keep you in my sights, you bad flying cocky egghead. Never ... leave me."

"Aww, really?" Lance chuckles softly. 

_Oh, the idiot!_ Keith screams internally, half-furious, half-breathless with emotions too raw and precious to speak them aloud. 

_You like him_ , Redeth says matter-of-factly. _Let him know_.

The brown rider leans forward, pressing his lips on Lance whose entire body stiffens for a few stunned seconds, before the blue rider relaxes as the kiss deepens. Keith feels Lance's good hand gently cupping his cheek, his jaw. Lance stares into Keith's eyes, never breaking the contact. Oh, Keith definitely had fresh bread and a bit of klah... And yet, he tasted sweet. They only break away when Fala returns with a mug of diluted fellis juice for Lance to drink.

Lance glances at Fala's wide grin. She must have seen everything. At that moment, Auri darts in, chittering angrily at him.

He starts to laugh too, scratching the gold's chin. It's good to be alive.


	22. Healing Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance recovers and discovers a few new things about Keith.

Lance spends the rest of the month in the infirmary. Keith visits him when he have the time, bringing him small gifts from the Lower Caverns. Threadfall is ongoing, so Keith is away fighting Thread with S'hiro's wing. When Keith does have rest-days in-between, he spends it with Lance, bringing along Auri and Brun who snuggle up against Lance. Auri has also been a good watch fire lizard, keeping an eye on Lance while she curls up on the pillow. She snapped at Fala in the first couple of days. But, once she was convinced that Fala wasn't going to hurt Lance, she stopped, even allowing the junior weyrwoman to tickle her eye-ridges, crooning with sheer pleasure. She kneads Lance's good arm like a contented kitten whenever she gets her tickles now.

By now, Lance's arm is healing very quickly. As he has joked, Igen blood makes Igen people tough. At first, he loathed to move his arm, lest the new skin breaks and bleeding starts once more. With the patient urging of Fala and Keith, he begins to move it gingerly, glad to feel sensations back in the arm. Of course, he can't stop the infernal itching which is a good sign, according to Fala and the healers. That means he's almost healed, no thanks to the sensation of a thousand insect legs crawling up and down his arm. 

Keith is sweet... almost. His little gifts have been artfully arranged on the small bedside table. Shiny stones picked up during patrol, random pretty - dried - weed he found growing in random crevices, and shells which Lance is damned sure are from the Southern Continent. Lance is touched that Mr Taciturn is making efforts to be nice. More so when Keith gently brings him out for short walks close to the lake. He sobbed when he saw Ceruleath for the first time ever since it happened. The blue dragon's right wing looked as raw as his arm looked. Sven's healers patched the burnt and torn membranes back with raw animal skins and careful stitching. Now Ceruleath is recovering, just as he is, eating and sleeping regularly, under the watchful eyes of Fala's queen and Redeth. The trick now is to find the courage to fly once more.

The day comes when the bandages have to be removed. Keith insists he has to be there. Lance is half-embarrassed, half-reassured. At least, he has someone to hold his hand. Fala is a good nurse. She carefully snips off the ends of the bandages, before gently unraveling it, while asking questions like "Does it hurt?" and "Do you want me to stop?" Lance makes sure he stares at what comes after the unwrapping, be a man about it and suck it up.

Then he can feel a deliciously cold draft on skin... and he looks down at tender flesh, the color of light pink. Patches of the old skin are still clinging on, as if for dear life. His arm resembles the hairless skin of some trussed-up game animal Igen folk loves to catch during their spare time. Sea pig? Sea hog? The Lower Caverns women used to scorch off the bristle off the skin with fire, before they roasted the meat on the spits. Lance can't remember. It has been so long since he left Igen Weyr. But he can move his arm without pain and that's a good thing. 

Keith has a scrunched up look that says "I don't really like what I am seeing, but I am supporting you". His hand holding Lance's good hand has never moved, only tightening when Fala examines the condition of the arm with a critical eye.

"No vigorous activity for a while," Fala declares, tossing the used bandages into the waste bin. "Use your arm, but keep it clean and let it breathe. Some diluted numbweed cream to alleviate the itching."

"Yes, ma'am," Lance answers dutifully. 

Keith continues to fuss over him like an overly protective wherry hen. Lance loves it. This is a side of Keith he has never seen before and would like to see even more.


	23. Going Into The Wild

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance has finally been discharged from the infirmary. But would he be brave enough to fly once more?
> 
> Also Allura ponders on the enigma that is Haggar.
> 
> Oh yes, mating flight.

The day Lance steps out of the infirmary for good is the day he will never forget. Keith is right beside him, his firelizard on his shoulders, her tiny claws gently dug in for balance. Outside, his friends wait to greet him: Hunk, Pidge, even the bronze rider S'hiro, their wing leader. C'ran is also there to give the young lad a good cheering. The Weyrlingmaster has recovered, his color back on his cheeks. He blames his old age and infirmity. Yet he too is happy to see the blue rider fully recovered. 

The moment Lance walks out, everyone rushes in and crowds around him, patting his back, ruffling his hair. S'hiro gives him a brotherly hug and thumps his chest which makes Lance cough. It is all in good fun. They all miss him. The loudest comes not from them, but his blue who ambles up, flapping his healed wings, his right one fully healed. The dragon nudges his rider and bumps him playfully, a sign that Ceruleath is back to his old self. Redeth watches stoically with the rest of the wing's dragons, his eyes spinning slowly in gorgeous blues and greens. 

Allura and Fala observe from the Lower Caverns, their hearts glad that Lance is well and that there is one more rider to fight the insidious Thread. Above them the Red Star still gleams with a malicious intent. Allura visited Lance when he was still unconscious and deathly pale from his ordeal. She had a feeling that he would survive. Intuition runs in her family. While Fala took up the bulk of nursing, Allura had other matters to deal with. The old crone Haggar is prominent on her mind, besides the nitty-gritty of running a functional and functioning Weyr. Because of the Threadfall, delivery of the tithes had ground to a halt. Allura had to work quickly; she convinced the Lord Holder by paying him a personal visit, astride on Alteath. The sight of a golden dragon, glittering like the risen sun, never fails to inspire people. The Lord Holder, thus inspired, urged his men to send the tithes as quickly as they could. They did, in one day. 

Haggar, though, isn't like a train of tithes driven by ordinary men. Haggar is a complex matter. Allura delved into the Records. Haggar was indeed a queen rider. A senior Weyrwoman who then lost her queen dragon in a tragic freak accident during her own mating flight. In agony, the queen Daniath flung herself _between_ , making her rider dragon-less and driving Haggar insane. The woman was then taken in by the previous Benden Weyrleader who was sympathetic and empathized with her pain. All riders would. The loss of a dragon was a torment, something they didn't even want to wish on their enemies. Haggar drifted, fed physically and cared for by the hard-working Lower Caverns women. Mentally, Haggar was lost in her fractured world, a part of herself ripped away by her dragon's death.

Recently, Haggar caused a disturbance in the Lower Caverns, forcing Shay to lodge a formal complaint to the weyrwomen. The headwoman was at wits' end when it came to Haggar. Allura had suggested sending Haggar away to their ally, Fort, but T'hace vetoed it, the reason being that S'dak was a stickler for order in his Weyr and Haggar would disrupt that order like a big rock in a still lake. 

Normally, Allura won't worry that much, but Alteath is now bearing eggs. Still early, but Alteath had already shown signs and the dragon healer had confirmed it after a thorough check-up. Sometimes with queen dragons, you couldn't tell. Sometimes, a bronzing or discoloring of the belly would indicate gestation. Sometimes, bulges along the flanks would mean eggs. For Alteath, it was a sudden spurt of ravenous hunger that alerted Allura. It was a pattern she'd noticed for her beloved queen. Ravenous hunger preceded all of her pregnancies. 

Allura has an awful feeling that Haggar will be up to something. As she watches the small celebration, Allura feels malicious eyes, as baneful as the Red Star, stalk her in the shadows of the Lower Caverns. 

*

"Hey, I _am_ fine!" Lance repeats himself the sixth time for the day. Keith still hovers about him like a too overly-concerned parent. 

He is back to his own weyr, slightly dusty because of his stay in the infirmary. He insists dusting the weyr on his own, despite Keith's loud protests. 

"My arm is fine, I am fine," Lance chants, picking up clothing off the floor. The air even smells musty, for Faranth's sake!

It's not that his arm is not functional. He's no longer a convalescent and he's not an invalid. He still looks at his arm with a shiver down his spine. The skin now looks puckered, pock-marked by patches of dried skin and pinkish flesh. For the most part, Lance hides it under long sleeves. The Weyr being a bit cold also adds some validity to the excuse. 

Besides, he does want to go back to fighting Thread again. There is one due in five days. According to S'hiro, the Threadhall has indeed become erratic. Great, the time he becomes a fully-fledged dragonrider, Thread has decided to go all _weird_. Just his dumb luck. 

Now Keith is behaving more like his mother. 

"I really appreciate what you're doing, but for the last and final time, I am _fine_ ," Lance says, exasperated, when Keith tries to clean the floor for him, with one of the cloth mops taken from the Lower Caverns. 

Keith, Mister K'gane, actually has the temerity to look hang-dog, like one of the hunting canines Igen Weyr likes to have around. Lance feels as if he has just yelled at a cute puppy. 

"I want to keep an eye on you, that's all," Keith says, the fire back in those eyes. 

"It's not like I will fall into the bathing pool," Lance rolls his eyes ceiling ward. Nice, there are cobwebs there. "I might be a pain in the posterior, but I am not a klutz, you dimglow."

"Lance..."

_I know you care_ , Lance thinks. "All right, all right, you clean the bed area, while I attempt to restore order in the pile of laundry," he points at his bed which, fortunately, has its sheets cleaned and changed. 

Knowing Keith, he flings himself into the task, cleaning with so much vigor that Lance is genuinely worried that the floor would end up with burn marks from the mop. 

"Whoa, whoa," Lance puts down a pair of white shorts he swears he would never ask the women to wash again. "Okay, _stop_. Time out."

He walks briskly towards Keith, a little wary because you might never know Keith. You get smooches or you get smacked up your head. "I want you to chill you. The weyr isn't going away any time soon."

The mop plops onto the floor as if relieved. Keith runs his hand through the mass of black hair. He doesn't even look tired. As if he had done menial labor before. A brown rider cleaning weyrs? 

"I'm used to it," Keith mutters. 

"That's not the point," Lance shakes his head. "Keith, you are too intense for your own good."

This time, the flare in his eyes is fair warning and Lance raises his hands, backing off. He knows him well enough to recognize _signs_. 

"I am happy that you are willing to help and that you care," Lance finds the small table a good shield against Keith's mood. Maybe a dip in the bathing pool would douse that fire... calm it down... or something. 

_Yum, yum, naked Keith_ , Lance muses and is glad that, at least, his sexual desire's back and raring to go. "Well, we can take a break..." 

Auri and Brun seem to know when to spoil the moment. The two fire lizards are chittering loudly and darting about.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Keith tries to calm Brun down. The little bronze's eyes are spinning yellow. There seems to be a spike of _something_ in the air. Lance feels it. Keith feels it. Everyone feels it. 

Keith glances at Lance so quick the blue rider swears it feels like a whip. The brown rider swallows as if with difficulty, trying to control his emotions.

Suddenly, there is a scream in the air. A dragon's scream. Both of them runs out just in time to see the young queen Orlath sweeping down from the sky. Her kill lays bloodied in the middle of the Weyr.


	24. Orlath's Mating Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orlath rises to mate. Queen dragons tend to broadcast their mating emotions rather loudly. Riders, mated or not, flee the Weyr until it's safe to return. 
> 
> A certain brown rider is being quite blunt.

Orlath _shrieks_. 

It is a sound that tears across the sky, rending it into two. It is a song that calls to the bronze dragons. Already the mated bronze-gold pairs are heading off. They definitely do not want to be caught in the wild emotions generated by a golden dragon about to rise for her mating. Some of the brown-green pairs are also leaving. Actually everyone with a dragon is making themselves scarce. 

Lance sees Merla. The young weyrwoman seems dazed, her eyes intent on her dragon who has suddenly become a raging demon. She is now being surrounded by bronze riders, even S'hiro, as Silvarath did not catch Alteath in her last mating flight. 

Lance wishes his wingleader all the luck before running to Ceruleath, Keith right behind him and calling Redeth. He sees Pidge already astride Viridath. The green rider has a panicked expression. Calth hovers, Hunk gesticulating frantically. 

"We go somewhere," Lance yells, knowing that it comes across as lame. The rest nods. 

Ceruleath doesn't show any sign of fear when he scrambles up onto the dragon's neck. "We go to the Southern Continent," Lance declares. His heart is hammering, his breath taken over - but he's riding again. On his dragon. Perhaps he will be the most excellent dragonrider ever on Pern after all. 

*

When they finally return to Benden, the mating flight is over. Orlath has mated with bronze Tizanth whose rider is one of the senior wingleaders. 

It had been fun spending time with Keith and the rest on the beach. The sea calls out to Lance. He is home. He taught Pidge and Hunk fishing, Hunk surprising everybody with fishing tricks. So Hunk is a kind of coastal boy himself. So lunch was spent grilling fish on sticks and listening to stories. Keith let on a bit about his life at Fort Weyr, Pidge talked about brother who is also Weyrleader at High Reaches. Hunk merely listened, nodding, understanding. The dragons sunned themselves luxuriously and happily. 

Lance gratefully slips into the bathing pool, doubly pleased that the water is pleasantly hot. He sinks in, blowing bubbles. 

Someone else enters the water, plunging in and breaking his lazy reverie. Keith. And wonderfully... naked. The brown rider paddles toward him, waves stirring about the lean muscled body. He's built just nice. Women will definitely like him. 

"Um," Lance utters and is lost for words. This is fast. This is really fast. He wants it, but he wants it to slow down too, whatever it is. 

"Listen, M'Clain," Keith speaks with a strange light in his eyes. Desire? Longing? Wariness? All rolled into one? "Listen, I am doing this, because I want this thing to work out."

"I'm listening," Lance nods. 

"You are still very annoying and very attractive. I like this about you. Do you want to make this relationship work?" _Gosh, Keith, you are still very blunt, aren't you?_

"I am all yours," Lance smiles his Lance smile. This is an open invitation to Keith who sidles up to him... and he's looking at those eyes, those lips right in front of him. Keith's skin glistens. Lance wonders very idly whether the emotions generated by the mating light are still lingering in the air, because he feels the same way too.

Keith leans forwards, his lips brushing against Lance's, before crushing them with a hunger that makes Lance believe the mating flight has affected Keith more...

He responds back, tentatively, tasting the salt on Keith's lips. Oh yeah, they swam in the sea and Keith in the sea looked heaps better than Keith in the sky. So, they splash about, kissing, playing and gauging each other. It's not a dominance thing. Lance hates the idea of having someone who is dominant or domineering for that matter. They are both equals. Keith is a good kisser and Lance loves it. When they are done, panting, their skin wrinkled up like pickled plums from Benden Hold, they hold each other, their breath mingling in the steam. 

"Tomorrow?" Lance asks when Keith dries both of them with a clean towel. 

"We need to practise! Thread's in three days' time!" 

Keith is back to good old Keith. Can't take the competitiveness from his bones.

"Besides, I want to beat you in the Winter Games," Keith's smile is so brief Lance has to look for it somewhere on his face. 

Lance's yelp of amused indignation is so loud it wakes the slumbering Auri and Brun.


	25. Back To Thread

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance goes back to Thread-fighting. Can he cope?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short vignette, focusing on Lance's returning back to fighting Thread as an active dragon rider. 
> 
> Apologies for the slow uploading. Still dealing with health issues.

After the jubilation has died and the new queen rider feted with her mate during a feast, it is time to fight Thread. 

S'hiro finds Lance feeding Ceruleath pieces of fire rock. The blue dragon is chewing very carefully, his eyes closed as if in total attention. The bronze rider hears the pieces rolling down Ceruleath's throat like a gentle landslide. Lance appears calm and prepared, back to wearing his jacket, white shirt and riding leathers. Close by is brown Redeth, also in the business of chewing fire rock. 

"I want to know if you are ready for this," S'hiro squats down in front of Lance, not breaking the eye contact. He is glad that Lance does not glance away. The young man is stronger than he'd thought. 

"I am ready, sir," Lance replies. Suddenly Keith appears from nowhere, hovering protectively over Lance. S'hiro lifts his eyebrow questioningly. "I am definitely ready, sir."

A sharp whistle breaks the morning's silence: a signal for the wings to assemble. Up above their heads, the Red Star gleams. 

"Let's go, team," S'hiro claps his hands. Silvarath lowers his neck. They have both recovered from the mating flight. Silvarath took fourth place again. Yet S'hiro isn't bothered. Merla is a pretty girl, a bit flighty at times, but a competent nurse like Fala. She isn't just his type. Pidge and Hunk salute, running to their dragons. 

Lance inhales sharply, the cold air percolating in his chest. His right arm prickles in sympathy. He still keeps it hidden. He climbs quickly up Ceruleath's leg. Ceruleath's newly healed wing gleams in the light of the dawn. The blue dragon stretches his wings, testing them. Lance can see the muscles moving beneath the hide. Ceruleath is ready. 

_Let's go!_ Ceruleath says. Lance grips the riding straps, catching Keith's look of concern. 

With a concerted roar of wings and voices, the wings of Benden Weyr ascend to the sky.


	26. Brave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short vignette. Is Lance truly brave?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting of chapters will resume after I have returned from a science fiction convention.

The moment Lance exits _between_ , anxiety hits him right in the chest, followed straightaway by a strong powerful hand squeezing his throat and lungs. Memories of him falling strobe in his head. He can't shut them out and off. He closes his eyes, feeling the tears seep past the lids. _Not now, not now!_

His heart is beating so hard and so loud that he's surprised it has not burst out of his chest yet. 

Almost immediately, Ceruleath veers sharply to the right, nearly avoiding a thick clump of silvery Thread. And also immediately, fire chases the Thread, incinerating the clump. Redeth flies past, Keith shaking his fist. 

_Redeth wants us to stay close to them_ , Ceruleath says. 

So they do what the brown dragon has instructed. Staying close. Working in tandem. Slowly, very gradually, the fear eases, the powerful hand releases its hold over his throat and lungs. Lance begins to breathe easier. In fact, he begins to enjoy the flying and the thrill of excitement in his veins. 

When they finally return to the Weyr for much-needed mugs of hot nourishing klah and fresh bread, Keith sits besides Lance while they nurse their drinks, his silent figure lending the blue rider strength and courage. For the first time since he fell from the sky, Lance feels brave, well and truly brave.


	27. Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance and Keith are closer, but gosh, please be patient. 
> 
> And with the spate of mating flights, there is hope again...
> 
> ... Then, there is Haggar.

For the next few weeks, Keith remains close to Lance, keeping an eye on him. They spend any free time they have, grooming their dragons and training their rapidly growing fire lizards. They haven't decided to go beyond furtive and passionate kisses. Keith feels as if Lance is waiting for the right opportunity whereas Lance thinks Keith is playing hard to get. The blue dragon rider relishes the challenge. He is now becoming more comfortable with his healed arm. When he removes his white shirt, he ignores the curious stares and glances. After a while, everyone doesn't care or mind. This is after all a functioning Weyr with dragon riders who emerge from _between_ injured by Thread all the time.

Meanwhile, Benden is flourishing, much to T'hace's satisfaction. Alteath is bearing eggs and there is the promise of Hatching in a few months' time. Orlath has risen and might bear eggs as well. A couple of greens have also flown, pairing with an blue and a brown respectively. Chewing firestone renders greens sterile. But the slew of matings have brought hope to the Weyr. People are smiling and laughing more. The prospect of new dragons and new folk galvanizes everyone right down to the children in the Lower Caverns.

Allura keeps warning the Weyrleader about Haggar and how the old woman eyes Alteath's growing belly with predatory eyes. The old crone frightens her. With Alteath so vulnerable now, Allura isn't going to take any chances.  
"She wants a queen," Allura shakes her head, exasperated with T'hace's nonchalance. "She's going to do something bad... drastic."

"I will make sure I post guards when Alteath starts laying," T'hace promises her quickly. He tries to soothe her. The Weyrwoman is beside herself with worry. She knows Haggar would elude the guards. 

*

Pidge is doing Watch duty. It is cold and Pidge is covered with a thick jacket lined with fur. The collar is pulled right up to the ears. Thicker gloves with a scarf thrown in. The Red Star is on the ascendant. Pidge stares at the gleaming red planet, the harbinger of so many bad things. 

Pidge hunches over, annoyed at the cramps which would attack every month. Shay gave some hot klah. It helped. A little. 

Viridath leans over for a quick rub. Her muzzle is cold from the brisk wind. So far the green hasn't risen nor has she indicated that she wanted to mate. Sven suggests that Viridath might just be one of the rare green dragons who might not mate. He has seen one or two before, when he trained as an apprentice healer at High Reaches. 

Pidge has been observing the number of couples forming in the Weyr. Keith and Lance. Even shy Hunk and Shay. S'hiro is in his own world, pining after Allura. The green dragon rider laughs. Pidge is happy being Pidge.


	28. Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith gets assigned to High Reaches Weyr for two weeks. S'hiro questions the stupidity of the decision.

New orders come from T'hace one morning. Keith has to be temporarily deployed to High Reaches Weyr for a short assignment. S'hiro makes his protest known to the Weyrleader. His new wing is finally taking shape and the riders are mature, level-headed. Taking out a wing member at such a crucial stage doesn't make sense at all. He doesn't understand why M'hew would do such a thing. 

"They are erecting a new distance-viewer," T'hace says, when he is confronted by S'hiro. "They found it in one of their old stores. A big one. K'gane is to help them set it up."

"Don't they have enough manpower?" S'hiro fumes. 

"I don't think you know K'gane well enough. He knows distance-viewers, good eye sight and all. He was one of those riders valued by S'dak to spot Thread... until S'dak got weary of his temper."

"But still a bad decision," S'hiro insists. 

"He will be gone for at least two weeks," T'hace tries to mollify his best wingleader. S'hiro could have been made Weyrleader a long time ago. 

"How can I fight with three wing members? You forget they also work in tandem."

"He will be back in two weeks," T'hace says firmly. 

S'hiro runs his hand through his hair. "Sometimes, T'hace, you can be such a stubborn ass."

*

Keith, however, takes the news rather calmly, much to Lance's surprise. 

"It's only for two weeks," Keith grins, his dark eyes flashing. 

They hold each other close, the two firelizards darting about excitedly, obviously catching their emotions. 

*

The day Keith leaves for High Reaches, a unseasonal storm breaks out over Benden. Lance wonders if this is a sign... But he doesn't believe in signs. Or does he?

He watches Redeth disappear into _between_ , with the others assigned to High Reaches, with an odd feeling in his heart. 

He realizes, with a sharper pang, that he will definitely miss Keith.


	29. High Reaches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith begins his assignment at High Reaches. Why is it so cold all the time?

High Reaches is always cold. Keith makes a note of it and wears his jacket every day, his front zipped right up to his throat. How the people here manage to survive the cold winds - colder than Benden _and_ Fort - perplexes him. How they manage to be so cheerful about it is beyond comprehension. Only for two weeks, Keith reminds himself grimly as he helps T'nix, a High Reaches brown rider, heave the distance-viewer onto the pallet. It is just too big to carry on the shoulders of men. 

And T'nix is laughing while they pull the wooden pallet bit by bit to the next point of its destination, his face flushed with good humor and exertion. He reminds Keith of Lance with the infectious joy and amusement often seen in Lance's eyes. Only that T'nix has a shock of red hair and freckles across his nose. 

The Weyrleader, M'hew, has made sure Keith has a comfortable weyr complete with functional bathing pool and a warm bed for Redeth. He is Pidge's older brother, a bigger version of her. Yet, he's more sociable than his siblings, often joking with his men and mixing with the Lower Caverns folk during meal time. He's not adverse to helping them at their chores, even during the couple of days when the women and some of the men made numbweed cream. The fumes would normally have driven away most sane people. Riders would find any plausible reason to disappear for half a day. M'hew would simply just roll up his sleeves and help stir the cauldrons of boiling juice. 

Why does High Reaches have to be so cold all the time? It's cold in the morning and freezing at night. The Weyr looks absolutely _forbidding_ with the Seven Spindles like - what? - claws extending out into the sky. It's just absolutely _grimdark_ and scary and not a place for dragonriders. So it was a big shock when Keith saw the dragonriders were actually happy the first day he landed in the Weyr for his assignments. He has heard more laughter in this Weyr than Benden and Benden is already a good Weyr in his books. 

He has slowly started to appreciate the bleak beauty of the Weyr, especially when the rising sun shines on the glistening mica embedded in the stone. 

T'nix wipes the perspiration from his brows. "Let's take a breather here."

Keith looks up. Still a long way to go. 

The wind chooses that particular moment to pick up. It feels like ice across his face and he swears his mouth is frozen. 

High Reaches is always cold, Keith mutters to himself and plods on.


	30. A Distance Between Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance keeps himself busy, but he misses the brown rider.

Lance keeps himself occupied, looking after not one but two firelizards, as Keith had instructed him to take care of Auri. The tiny golden queen lizard appears fairly contented, burping happily after her meal of fresh red meat, her belly bulging. So Lance takes it as a sign that Keith is also _okay_. Brun, of course, likes having Auri around. They are not the only firelizards now, since the craze seems to have caught on, much to T'hace's dismay. A few riders and one or two Lower Caverns women have Impressed little browns, blue and a green. _More the merrier!_ C'ran reassures the Weyrleader. 

Lance keeps himself busy, scrubbing Ceruleath at the lake, training with the _Team_ , a name he unofficially calls S'hiro's wing. The little Team seems to be gelling better, listening to subtle physical and emotional cues. Pidge is happier now. So is the gentle giant Hunk. In the gaps between each Threadfall, they train and train, paying attention to S'hiro's commands, sensitive to their own dragon's needs. 

Yet, Lance can't help but feel a distance between him and Keith, that Keith must be enjoying himself at High Reaches. Shop talk at the dinner table tells him that High Reaches is bloody cold, colder than Benden. How Keith enjoys himself there is beyond Lance. Two weeks. Two long weeks. He has even started to miss Keith's fussing and temperamental mood swings. 

His bed feels uncomfortably cold and empty, a condition he feels he needs to rectify immediately... once Keith returns and everything is back to normal, whatever 'normal' is. Brun curls up on the pillow beside him. His furs are warm, yet he tosses and turns. Even the weyr, with the colorful Igen carpets and cushions, feels... hollow. 

So he laughs it off, slapping Hunk's back, teasing Pidge, acting _Lance Is Being Lance Again_. Only S'hiro senses the loneliness in the young blue rider and sits beside him during meal time as a silent source of comfort, offering friendship, nothing else. 

*

A particularly severe Threadfall has kept Benden busy for two days. Two days of Threadfall is fairly uncommon, but it has happened before in the past, according to Allura. 

It is _brutal_. Almost two wings are taken out, the men and dragons injured by the fast-falling silver spores. This time, Thread cascades down like heavy rain, a downpour. At other times, Thread drifts like clumps of seaweed cast afloat on water or dribbles down in drips and drabs. 

Instead of floods, this rain lacerates, cuts, slices and burns. Coupled with the profusion of Thread is the unusual gusts of wind, causing a lot of the clumps to blow right into the wings who desperately try to dodge them. The floor of Benden Weyr is covered by men moaning in pain and dragons with their wings seared and torn. The healers are rushing from one pair to another. The queen riders are called in to help. Allura and Fala take charge of the sterilization of surgical tools and bandages, comforting delirious riders, whispering words of encouragement to them while they treat their wounds. 

Lance comes out from this severe Threadfall unscathed. The Team has done well. However, they are rendered silent by the sight of riders and dragons in pain. 

In spite of memories of his own injury, Lance doesn't hesitate to help Fala. The junior weyrwoman has her hands full. He is content just listening to her instructions and obeying them. _Get me clean bandages. Give me that tray of tools. Pour some fellis juice for V'con_. He runs errands, carrying messages to the other healers, fetching more medicine from the stores. He does it cheerfully. 

When he finally slides into the warm bathing water after a long day, it is with an immense sigh of relief. He swims a few short laps, splashing about, missing the jaunts at the Southern Continent with Keith. When he finally flops out of the bathing pool, he lies on the floor, staring at the tiny fissures in the ceiling. They remind him of the fine spider-webbing of veins across Keith's chest and broad shoulders. 

One more week, one more week.


	31. I See You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith completes his assignment at High Reaches' Weyr and returns to Benden. Will Lance be glad to see him back?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for taking so long to update. Had to work on my edits (for a novella). I also had a short vacation and only flew back last Thursday. So, here's the newest chapter. :D

They tested the distance-viewer the day before Keith returned to Benden. M'hew and his senior riders took turns peering into the eye-piece, adjusting the buttons. Restored to its former glory, the distance-viewer gleamed with a fresh coat of oil and industry. M'hew invited Keith to stand with them where they placed the distance-viewer: facing skyward and facing the Red Star. 

Awkward, unsure of how to behave in front of High Reaches' senior bronze dragonriders, Keith stuffed his hands into his leather jacket's pockets and stared at his boots. Suddenly the dust seemed more exciting. 

"Come, take a look!" M'hew encouraged him cheerfully. The men nodded, signaling their approval. Keith wasn't sure how much they knew about him and his history. But he did take a look into the eye-piece. 

Someone had adjusted the angle so that the distance-viewer seemed to look directly at the glistening red orb in the sky. Keith stared at swirling white clouds and a roiling sky that only reminded him of Shay's stews. The surface of the Red Star didn't seem to stay still. It was unstable, replete with storms. Keith's stomach turned. He was staring straight at the enemy, their enemy. He, like the rest of the dragonriders, was trained to fight this.  
He turned aside, hiding his nausea. He wondered if he could see Benden from this distance. 

"With this, we could track the Red Star better," M'hew was saying. 

Keith just wanted to go home. 

_I see you_ , Keith told Lance quietly in his heart. Lance was on his mind all the time. _I miss you_. 

*  
After a hearty breakfast of freshly baked rye bread and hot klah, Keith bids farewell to M'hew. He is surprised that T'nix has shown up to see him off. His shock of red hair stands out in the crowd. 

"Take care, K'gane!" T'nix waves and suddenly becomes shy. Keith is uncomfortably aware that T'nix likes him. "I hope to see you soon."

Keith says something silly, something inconsequential and inane. With a salute to M'hew and the watching weyrwomen, Keith lightly presses Redeth's flanks with his boot heels. The brown dragon takes a flying leap into the sky, his wings sweeping down powerfully. 

They enter between and emerge above Benden. It is a bright and sunny day above the Weyr, so unlike High Reaches' with its cold and glittering mica. 

Lance isn't around, off on a patrol with Pidge and Hunk. But the firelizards dart out, screeching with sheer delight, and Keith spends about fifteen minutes trying to pry Auri's tail off his neck while keeping Brun's claws from sinking right into his upper arms. Redeth snorts and slides into the lake, sinking in so that only his eyes can be seen. 

_Too cold to bathe in High Reaches Weyr_ , the brown says, a hint of a contented sigh in his voice. _It's warmer here. Much nicer_. 

Keith laughs. He catches sight of Alteath, Allura's gold. Her pregnancy is more prominent now, her belly now showing more lumps. It won't be long now. Like any dragonrider, he is eager to see a new clutch. It always means good luck when there is a Hatching. 

_It might rain tonight_ , Redeth's voice comes unhidden. Colder wind when we flew back. _Why is everything so cold now?_

Gleaming eyes watch them in a distance before disappearing into the dark.

**Author's Note:**

> For naming purposes, I will be using their last names/surnames to shorten, as per Pernese tradition for dragon riders.
> 
> Note: Now also imagine the lions as dragons. There are no red dragons, so Red will be a brown (male). There are also no yellow dragons (so Yellow will be a brown as well). Black will be a bronze (male). Blue will be a male, Green female. Allura will ride a queen (gold).
> 
> I would imagine the setting to be somewhat similar to the times of F'lar and Lessa. Ninth Pass. AU. All the Weyrs will be the same in the books, plus or minus new ones created for this au. For this story, the Red Star is about to make its Pass and Thread is imminent.


End file.
